Heritage
by St. Harridan
Summary: She has all of Hisana's beauty, but Hisana had none of her strength.


Written for **unwritten_icons **on LJ.

Prompt #1: She has all of Hisana's beauty, but Hisana had none of her strength - "Your technique needs improvement."

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Heritage

Byakuya watched as his sister-in-law shot out another blast of purple energy, fiery and spitting electricity, hurtling it into a thick tree trunk. It had been her sparring partner for the last hour, and its wooden torso showed the scars sustained from the battles it fought with her. An ongoing battle. The kido spell exploded upon impact, creating a crater the size of a bonsai tray amidst countless others, maybe even smaller. Gods knew how big Ukitake's bonsai trays were – the man simply adored his plants – and they easily dwarfed the damage done to the tree trunk.

Byakuya turned back to the work on his desk, away from the sight of the girl's very much irritated expression. As he sifted through reports, letters and confidential documents among others, the sounds of Rukia's training grew steadier, louder with each kido spell she screamed out. Her voice was rough, stern and deep like a male's. Anyone could have mistaken her for a young man if they only heard her speak behind a curtain. She was no princess, unlike the many descendants of the Kuchiki Noble House. She was, by their royal standards, a scoundrel. And that was to say at the very least.

Byakuya arranged the papers in piles and set them aside, leaving his workspace free, uncluttered. His lieutenant was to come by and pick up the signed paperwork, sending them over to the highest power to be overlooked and approved. His division always received the highest recognition – sometimes they had to compete with rivals such as Ukitake and, unsurprisingly given his reliable and diligent lieutenant, Kyouraku – but most of the time they were ahead. In terms of punctuality and cleanliness, they were at the top of the food chain, much in contrast to that division of thugs who gravelled at the very bottom, dirty, coarse and covered in carnage.

Byakuya leaned back in his chair and turned his head up to gaze at the ceiling. Whitewashed wood, nothing interesting. If something was regarded as "interesting" by a Kuchiki, it had to be an object worth half of the Rukongai. In the still silence of the empty room he could hear Rukia's shrieks all the more clearly. Without the shuffling of papers or the rustling of leaves, her cries were the only melody sung to him. Those horrid noises that she elicited needed to be shut down in order to preserve the peace.

Byakuya tried to block out the noise, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't. They were there, ever present, ringing in his ears as if seeking attention. Just when he thought that he was hearing Rukia's screams, another voice slid its way into his mind, as smooth as a snake, and intermingled with hers until it transformed entirely. Whether it was through a combination of some sort or just his ears playing tricks on him – Byakuya had no clue. All he was aware of at that moment, frozen to his chair, was the sweet voice of a woman. Gentle, soothing... His Hisana.

Byakuya heard words spoken through lips so pale, so cracked as if Death was seizing that soul once again. Her soul. Though incoherent, those words made themselves known and, crafting their blades of sorrow into his heart, remembered. He felt the pain inflicted upon him by bitter memories. After being stashed away for so long, they returned with a vengeance and a steadfast resolve to rip him apart. He heard the screaming, groaning, cries of the wounded. She had tears streaming down her pale, sunken cheeks when she departed, when all he had done was sit there and watch, making naught a move to rescue her.

Byakuya felt a wave of nausea as her face appeared before him, small yet so familiar, as though she had gone off to the market to purchase some necessities and would return once the sun fell below the horizon. He reached out, head spinning with a complex mixture of longing and despair, breathing her name, thinking her name.

_Hisana..._

Byakuya whispered it, tasting it as that name rolled of his tongue, but when his fingertips hit cold, hard glass he immediately snapped out of his trance. He found that he had stood from his chair, and what lay before him was nothing but a closed windowpane. A light breeze rustled the leaves outside, whisking some of the weaker ones away from their mother tree, never to be found again. And when his eyes settled upon the small figure down in the training grounds, he knew that Hisana had been an illusion, for Rukia stood there, staring up at him through wide, puzzled eyes. From this distance, he could see the flame of determination burning within her, clearly shown through her facial expression. Confused though she was, she still stood her ground, continued to look him in the eye till he could do nothing but turn away from the window.

Rukia, as years passed on, resembled her dearly departed sister so much to the extent that they could even be called twins. She possessed Hisana's lips, hair, skin...her beauty. It was no wonder that Byakuya had so uncharacteristically arrived at the conclusion that she, despite how much he knew this to be sacrilege to the shinigami, had returned to him. But the tenacity that burned in Rukia's eyes, within her very being, was the ultimate separation of heritage.

Hisana didn't, not even in the slightest bit, possess her sister's strength.

Byakuya, upon arriving at the thought at the same time he set foot in the training grounds, felt the ache in his chest grow. He was fully aware of why Hisana hadn't lived that long despite how much attention, care and support he showered upon her. She didn't have the inner strength to carry on, to combat her demons and live life to its fullest. She died in a pitiful state, clinging to his hand with the last of what was left of her energy.

Byakuya stood a distance away from Rukia, as if going anywhere near her would burn him to a crisp. She exhibited her strength without reserve, for she had more than what her late sister possessed; much, much more. But still, the little dents in the tree trunk were worse than pitiful. A Kuchiki should be able to do better than that, and the sister-in-law of Kuchiki Byakuya, for that matter, should have already mastered the technique by now.

Byakuya raised a hand and, without the need to utter a single syllable of incantation, fired a purple ball of energy that tore the tree trunk into two in a massive explosion. Rukia was sent crashing to the ground, but when she titled her head up to look at him, she saw not an expression of severe contempt. A small curve at the corner of his mouth greeted her instead.

Byakuya returned her stare, and this time it wasn't Hisana that filled his vision, but Rukia, the one and only. The black sheep of the Kuchiki Noble Family. The scoundrel.

Byakuya lowered his hand, closed his eyes as a familiar melody whistled through the rustling leaves.

"Your technique needs improvement."


End file.
